Again. Here’s the deal with the end of the incest novel: I’ve written it a number of times at this point. I wonder if I’m spinning my wheels, delaying concrete decisions. The end is messy, for sure. I know what I want the last lines to be, but not the last scene, necessarily. I worry that I tried to do too much in the last third of it, that it all piles up. That I’m forgetting some of the earlier plot lines and winding up in a place too far removed from where I started. How do you do this, novelists? How do you keep it all in your damn head? It’s too much.
I continue to wake up with a headache and feeling less than great. Work stresses me out, more often than not I feel a little wrecked by Thursday morning. So I never quite got around to working on the novel this morning but I might get to it later in the day. I want to keep plugging away at it in first-draft mode, to keep adding new scenes, because I can always whittle them down. That’s my modus operandi right now – spew it out all out, as much as I can, then tighten it. The tightening I’m worried about, but once I get into it it’s my favorite part. But the damn forest and the fucking trees…it’s hard not to feel like I’m lost in the wilderness.0 Comments